Nobody's Saint (21 page)

Mary Kate ran her hand over the surface. “If I look closely enough, I’m sure I can find the thread that binds them. I tell you, this is the maid for my brave soldier.”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not
you
can find it. If it’s there, she must find it for herself or it means nothing. She’s made up of countless stitches that are connected to countless others. Only she can decide which of those threads to follow.”

Mary Kate hugged her sister close. “Thank you for coming here with me. You’re right, of course, sometimes I get to looking too closely at the patterns and I lose track of the whole picture.”

The sewing basket still sat on the floor, and Mary Kate threaded a needle with white thread. She stitched up the horse where she had made her cut, then did the same to the background in darker filament. It had definitely looked better before. She looked back over to her sister.

“I hope I haven’t cut the one that runs between them.”

“Come, Mary. Let’s go home.”

She opened her eyes and stared into the now dark streets of Cartagena. Dinner would be soon, and since she was to fast beginning tomorrow, she wasn’t about to miss the meal. But all the time she dressed for dinner, she could not shake the dream. It meant something, something important, but for the life of her, she didn’t know what.

*

The next day, sitting in the little wooden chair across the broad desk from Bishop Álvarez, like an errant schoolboy before his tutor, made Diego nervous, but there was an odd comfort in knowing Mary Kate sat behind him. She had not spoken a word to him all morning, so he knew she was angry with him still, but she had also stubbornly insisted that she be allowed to stay for his interview with the bishop. Father Tomás had explained to both her and Diego earlier about the bishop’s hope that he might be on the verge of revealing a miracle, and Mary Kate had picked right up on the strategy.

“Your Excellency,” she said in the mild and sweet manner she had first used with Diego, “Father Tomás is sure this will be a most auspicious occasion. Surely you’d not deny me the chance to say I was present when God saw fit to reveal a true miracle to Bishop Álvarez of Cartagena. I shall so want to tell the tale to every English Protestant I come across in my future travels.”

Father Tomás translated, and the bishop decided that, since Mary Kate did not speak Spanish, her own testimony could not be tainted by what she heard. She was allowed to stay after all. Father Tomás shook his head and hid a grin behind his hand.

Diego began by telling the tale much as he had with Father Tomás, only in greater detail, explaining how he had first come to pray to María Magdalena. “I was afraid I was not worthy of the responsibility of being
Magdalena’s
captain. After all, I had come by the post through the death of my commander, rather than being hired in that position.” He told him about falling in love with a Protestant and Magdalena
’s
promise of another if he gave her up, which left him explaining his role in the Geoffrey Hampton affair.

“You helped to
free
an English privateer?” the bishop asked, frowning. He turned to Father Tomás. “Was this part of Magdalena
’s
plan for Captain Montoya to rid the sea of pirates?”

“I knew the man,” Father Tomás explained. “He was an atheist, but Diego’s selfless act softened his heart. Diego may well have started the man on the path back to God.”
Not very likely
, he added silently,
but not impossible
.

“By giving him over to a Protestant lover?”

Father Tomás shrugged. “It is a start. I am but a humble priest. Who am I to question the will of God?”

Bishop Álvarez bent his head to make a few notes on a piece of parchment, and Father Tomás and Diego exchanged worried glances. His Excellency did not look convinced.

Diego’s eyes wandered the walls of the bishop’s office, and next to the door he noticed the likeness of Pedro Claver, the Jesuit who had devoted his life to the slaves of Cartagena.

“I think I can explain this, if I may,” Diego said. When the bishop looked back up from his notes, he continued. “That was not the end of my dealings with Captain Hampton.” Father Tomás shot him a warning look, but Diego plowed on. “A year ago, I chanced to rescue the bride of his first mate. She was of mixed blood, mulatto, and she had been kidnapped and sold to a procurer.”

The bishop gave him a sharp look. “And how did you discover a woman who had been sold to a procurer?”

“I saw her being auctioned in the marketplace in La Habana. Magdalena, she did not speak to me or appear in my dreams at that time, but I knew she wished me to save this woman. I used a good bit of my life savings to do so, though her husband has since repaid me. Now, she lives in Jamaica on a plantation that runs without slaves. I cannot help but think this, too, is part of my lady’s plan.”

The bishop’s own gaze fell upon the portrait by the door. “It is true that slavery is one of the scourges of the New World.”

Father Tomás smiled, and Mary Kate began to realize how frustrating the morning was going to become. A flurry of Spanish followed by a disapproving frown from the bishop, more Spanish, then looks of relief on the faces of Diego and Father Tomás. She caught bits and pieces, the name Magdalena and words like “sickness,” “pirates,” and “slaves.” It was like having tantalizing bits and pieces of a puzzle, but not nearly enough to make out the picture.

The talk of pirates became more extensive, and finally she heard her own name brought into the conversation. The bishop jerked his head up from his notes in shock and gave her a dubious look. Mary Kate rather imagined Diego had just told the bishop whom she looked like, and she gave him her sweetest smile.
Here I am, Saint Me. Never mind all the shouting I did yesterday when Enrique and his followers showed up in the church.

Bishop Álvarez seemed to be speaking to her, and finally Father Tomás was allowed to translate.

“He wishes you to tell him how you came to be captured by pirates and of Diego’s rescue,” the priest said.

Mary Kate regaled the bishop with a graphic tale of the battle that had occurred on the deck of
Fortune
. She told of pirates screaming blasphemies as they cut down helpless men in cold blood. His Excellency was aghast when she told of her fear of rape and murder, and she unshriven after four years away from the One True Church! Why, it had been a near miracle that she had convinced the pirate captain, who had leered at her in open lust throughout the battle, to leave her untouched for the ransom she would bring. Alas! She had known each dreadful night she had spent in the vile commander’s cabin, tied to his bed, that he might well change his mind and throw her to his merciless crew!

What but the hand of God could have saved her? And then the hand of God had swept across the sea in the form of a ship named for the saint who had washed the feet of the Lamb! At the sight of the brave Diego Montoya, Mary Kate, a poor country girl who had been so ill treated by her heretical grandfather and these heathen pirates and had lost all hope, actually found within herself the strength to fight! It was the sight of Diego, a son of Spain and thereby surely good Catholic, that had moved her to take up a sword and slay her evil captor.

Diego stared at her in open disbelief, and she offered him a nearly imperceptible shrug. It wasn’t a lie. She may have embellished some, but many of these events had happened very quickly, and there were gaps in her memory. She was merely trying to fill the gaps as best she could.

“Since I’ve been in Captain Montoya’s company, Your Excellency, I fear that I’ve conducted myself shamefully. I have felt a powerful attraction to him, which I have fully confessed, and even now I’m fasting as my penance. I have tempted him in every way that I could think of.” She held her breath and forced a blush, ducking her head. “I am truly ashamed. I could not bring myself to speak of it but that you must know he resisted me at every turn.”

“As I mentioned,” Father Tomás added, when he had completed his translation, “I have heard both of their confessions. I believe what she says is true.”

“She has lived beyond the reach of the Church for four years.”

“And each day of those years she kept a ledger book of her every sin for the day she would finally return and be allowed to make her confession.”

“A ledger book?”

“With every single sin duly recorded and confessed.”

Bishop Álvarez gave a nod of satisfaction.

Diego sat very still and carefully avoided looking at Mary Kate. He supposed she had stopped somewhere short of actually lying, but she was giving testimony to a bishop, and he was not sure how close to lying she could come without landing them both in Purgatory for several thousand years. Resisted her at every turn? He could still taste her mouth, her skin, still feel the heat of her pressed against him.

He glanced at Father Tomás, who said nothing further about either of the confessions he had heard.

“I have more questions about the nature of your visions,” Bishop Álvarez said, and Diego was relieved at the change of subject.

When asked what he believed about God, Jesus, and the Bible, he dutifully recited the Apostle’s Creed. His other answers were as suitably appropriate. No, he had not discussed matters of theology with María Magdalena. No, she had not in any way attempted to undermine any of the things he had been taught in church. She had never done anything more than to assure him that he was a good captain, to warn him of danger, and to encourage him to help others where he could.

“She has never said anything against the Church or the Holy Office of the Inquisition?” Bishop Álvarez asked.

Diego licked his lips. He could not control how others testified, but he himself would not lie. “She said this matter should not go before the Inquisition.”

The bishop sat up straighter. “Did she? Did you wonder why she might bid you avoid the scrutiny of the Church?”

“She did not bid me thus. She commanded me to go to Father Tomás.”

“Tomás?”

“Further proof that this matter is better heard by you than the Grand Inquisitor, Your Excellency,” Tomás said.

“Or that Captain Montoya’s saint fears the Inquisition.”

Diego’s palms turned slick.

“I have heard enough for today,” Bishop Álvarez said. “This afternoon, I will wish to speak again to the men who have brought this to my attention. Captain Montoya, are there any members of your crew whom you wish me to interview? I will tell you that it does not look well for you when your own first mate is suspicious.”

“I think that you may wish to speak with my former cabin boy, Galeno Rodríguez. He knows me well and has spent much time in my quarters. He has seen me at prayer and knows the importance of my faith.”

“Very well. I may have further questions for you and Señorita O’Reilly tomorrow.”

*

In the room down the hall, paella and flan. In England, bread pudding and venison. At home, mutton stew and parsnips covered in fresh butter. If only Mary Kate could stop thinking about food! Her stomach growled, and her mouth watered at the delicious smells creeping from the dining room into the drawing room, where she sat trying to think of Diego’s plight and how she might aid him, but obsessing about the mid-day meal instead.

Maybe she was going about the whole thing wrong. She was fasting in order to atone for her sins. If she contemplated those, then she would be truly repentant, and then she would be able to think of a solution.

She sat on the floor and closed her eyes. Now, what all had left her with an empty belly? All those times she had cursed or disobeyed her grandfather? Well, she wasn’t a bit sorry, if God wanted to know the truth. She was sorry for those few times she had sworn out of carelessness, rather than with the express purpose of shocking an English suitor. And she supposed she could be sorry for the times she disobeyed Sir Calder out of pure spite, rather than to preserve her status as an unsullied Irishwoman. Aye, she might be able to be a little sorry for that.

And there was Diego, of course. Diego, who smelled of crisp citrus and whose long, strong fingers could work magic on her flesh. She should be very, very sorry for letting him kiss her and for kissing him back, tasting every corner of his mouth. She should repent her wicked desire to feel the heat of his mouth upon her naked breast. Most of all, she should try most diligently to stop wishing that he would have taken her virginity one of the many times she had offered it.

“
¡Madre de Dios!
” Diego called from the doorway. He swept across the room in easy strides and sank to the floor beside her. “Are you all right, María Catalina?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “What?”

He took her face in his hands and searched her face with a worried frown. “You are on the floor, and your face is flushed, and you seemed to be having a difficult time breathing! Is it the fasting? It has made you feel faint.”

“Not the fasting, Diego. ‘Tis another kind of deprivation altogether that takes my breath away.”

Comprehension flooded his face, and he brushed his thumb lightly against her lower lip. “It is better that we stopped when we did. I would not have dragged you any more deeply into this than I already have.”

“Oh, you didn’t drag me anywhere. I’ve always managed to wander into trouble all on my own just fine.” Her stomach growled again, and she sighed. “How was the meal?”

“It was terrible,” he assured her with a grin. “You did not miss anything. Perhaps a game of chess will take your mind off your stomach and mine off Bishop Álvarez.”

She agreed, but now her desire for food was the least of her worries. Just as the smell of food had stirred her hunger, the scents of lemon verbena and warm male stirred her desires, and no amount of fasting seemed likely to help.

The next morning, Galeno greeted Diego, Juan, and Mary Kate at the cathedral door. “Enrique and the others are with the bishop. I told him everything as best I could, Captain. I told him of how you protect your men, how you have often risked your own life to keep all of us safe. I told him that I have seen you on your knees in prayer many times, and that you say your rosary. And every time we make port, you go to church. I told him that, too.”